Caves and Canoes and Connections

My days in western Belize were full. Full of awe at the great ceiba tree, the Mayan tree of life, reaching into the heavens and connecting its roots down into the underworld. Full of wonder at the variety of birds and bats spotted from a canoe at dusk on the Macal River. Full of trepidation and the overcoming of a great personal fear as I paddled into the yawning mouth of Barton Creek Cave, setting aside my irrational fear of dark water in order to witness the majesty of sparkling stalactites and ancient Mayan artifacts buried nearly a mile into the earth. Full of education as I wandered the natural history exhibit and blue morpho butterfly enclosure and cantered on the back of a docile mare named Sweet Thing to the working organic farm. Full of meandering hikes alone and laughing dinners with my fellow campers. Full of naps in my hammock and scribblings in my journal and nights rent by the otherworldly and magnificent calls of a troupe of howler monkeys in the jungle of our camp. My days quickly began to form a rhythm, a perfect combination of solitude and quiet with conversation and connection.